


For You

by Badgerbitch



Series: Shameless, kinky Jamilton smut [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Plug, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Begging, Blood, Bondage, Branding, Breathplay, But no actual slaves. Hamilton agreed to this in exchange for abolition, Canon Era, Cock Warming, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom Thomas Jefferson, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Humiliation, I mean not in this fic but he still has it obviously, If this was from Jefferson's pov it would be dubcon, M/M, Objectification, Orgasm Denial, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Public as in Jefferson's servants see it, Punishment, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slut Shaming, Smut, Somnophilia, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Whipping, but not a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgerbitch/pseuds/Badgerbitch
Summary: Hamilton wasn't allowed to wipe Jefferson's cum off his face, so now Jefferson will have to punish him for it.People asked for a sequel to All I Have, so here it is.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: Shameless, kinky Jamilton smut [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185338
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	For You

Hamilton woke up later than he ever had before. He could see the bright morning sun even through his closed eyelids, and felt its warmth on his bare skin. Yesterday's burning pain in his shoulder had turned into a dull ache, silently reminding him that he was wearing Jefferson's initials, branded onto his skin.

That every part of him belonged to Jefferson.

He stretched his sore body, gasping when the plug in his ass shifted from the movement.

The plug was keeping his hole loose and ready, because that part of him belonged to Jefferson, too.

Hamilton sleepily rubbed his eyes, when he felt something wet on his cheek. He looked down and saw cum spilled all over his chest, and probably his face as well. Jefferson must have woken up before him, come into his room and jerked off onto him.

Without bothering to clean him up after.

Without even bothering to wake him up.

Why should he have to? Hamilton was his slave, after all.

His cock twitched at the thought.

Hamilton took himself in his hand and started stroking. He remembered Jefferson's fingers on his cheek, and a softly whispered threat, 'If you decide to disobey me, I will find something that you don't enjoy'. But Jefferson hadn't forbidden him to touch himself, so this wasn't disobedience.

He might get punished for this, but only in a way he desperately craved.

Suddenly, somebody knocked on the door. Hamilton wiped Jefferson's cum off his face and body with the blanket. It was already dirty from yesterday, anyways.

He stood up and opened the door, half hiding behind it. He still wasn't used to Jefferson's servants seeing him naked and hard.

In front of him stood a tough looking woman, who had seen too much to still care. "I'm here to bring you breakfast and change your bandages." She pushed past him, put the plate she had carried down on the table, and opened the locked wardrobe in which Jefferson kept everything he needed for Hamilton.

The maid turned around, looked down at his hard cock, and huffed a mocking laugh. Hamilton blushed, and looked down on himself.

There was dried cum stuck in his pubes, he didn't know if it was his own or Jefferson's. He had been too exhausted yesterday to clean himself properly. Broad strokes of purple bruises were painted across his arms and legs, from his struggles against the rope. He didn't have a single scrap of fabric to cover any of it, and he was rock hard despite everything.

Or, rather, because of everything.

The maid changed his bandages quickly, and left without another word. Hamilton ate his breakfast sitting on the bed, and even though it hurt less than the hard wooden chair, the weight pressing down on his abused ass made him wince every time he moved.

Soon after he was done, Jefferson walked in. "Ah, you're ready, darlin'. Good."

Hamilton stood up, put the plate back on the desk, and turned around to face him. He looked flawless, with his tailored purple suit and the neat curls framing his handsome face.

Jefferson's eyes turned cold. "Come here.", he demanded.

Hamilton followed, and lowered his head. What had he done wrong? Jefferson couldn't possibly know he had touched himself, could he? Maybe the Maid had noticed, and told him?

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Jefferson put one finger under his chin and tilted his head up, so that Hamilton had to look him in the eyes. "So. Then please tell me, sweetheart, what exactly are you sorry for?" His voice was soft and sweet as honey, and Hamilton landed on the delicious trap like a butterfly.

"Sir, I'm sorry I touched myself. It was just that when I woke up to find your cum on my face, _to know_ _that you have used me even while I slept_ , it overcame me. I couldn't stop myself, I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"Well, thank you for admitting that." Jefferson smirked.

That wasn't what he had meant.

Hamilton had given him something new to punish him for, something more.

"And if you liked it so much, my pretty little whore, why did you wipe it off? You had no right to do that."

Oh.

Jefferson had expected Hamilton to walk around not only naked, but with cum on him. He wanted everyone to see not just the implication, but proof that Hamilton was nothing more than Jefferson's whore. The realization sent even more blood rushing to his aching cock.

"I'm sorry, Sir.", Hamilton gasped, "I'll do better next time, I promise."

Jefferson let go of him. "Your punishment will have to wait until I had breakfast. Go on, darlin', you know where my favorite dining room is."

Hamilton walked down the hallway to the only dining room he had seen yesterday.

He knew Jefferson liked walking behind him, liked seeing him walk tenderly. His ass had to be covered with deep purple stripes from Jefferson's belt, and the plug kept moving against his sore hole. Every step hurt, but he couldn't be too slow.

He had already disappointed Jefferson twice this morning.

When they arrived in the dining room, there were servants waiting for Jefferson, ready to bring him whatever he wanted to eat.

And of course, they were staring at Hamilton. Blood rushed to his face, and he had to resist the urge to cover himself.

Behind him, Jefferson laid a hand on his shoulder, and whispered into his ear: "You look so good when you're blushing, darlin'. It's like your own body is ashamed of what a whore you are." He let his free hand glide down his back to grab his ass. Hamilton groaned, and couldn't help but arch back into the touch.

He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see everyone looking at him, judging him.

Still, he could feel their burning gazes as Jefferson bit his earlobe, and pressed down on the burn on his shoulder. Hamilton whimpered at the pain, loud enough for them to hear.

Did they know what was under those bandages?

As soon as the branding had healed enough, they would see it.

Jefferson's hand left his ass, and instead moved to his chest to pinch and play with a nipple. Hamilton moaned, and pushed his ass back against Jefferson. He could feel his hard cock through the silken breeches, and the plug rubbed inside him, creating a perfect mix of pain and pleasure as he ground back against him. Jefferson whispered: "Cum for me, slut. Show them how desperate you are for my touch."

His deep, low voice was enough to tip Hamilton over the edge.

He threw his head back and moaned, while his untouched cock shot cum onto the floor. Surely he looked pathetic, melting into his master's touch, moaning and shivering at just his words and his hands on the injuries he had inflicted.

Hamilton opened his eyes again, but he looked down on the floor. He couldn't look into the eyes of the people who had just witnessed how easily Jefferson could take him apart.

"Onto your knees, and under the table, darlin'. I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock while I eat."

"Yes, Sir." With shaking legs, Hamilton crawled into his place, and Jefferson sat down on the richly decorated chair in front of him.

While Jefferson told the servants what to bring him, Hamilton opened his breeches and sunk down onto his cock.

Jefferson's voice hitched for just a second.

Hamilton started sucking and bobbing his head, using his hand to stroke Jefferson when he wasn't completely in his mouth, until Jefferson grabbed his hair and pushed him down.

It caught him off guard, the thick cock lodged in his throat made it impossible to breathe, and Hamilton instinctively tried to push away, tried to get off of it. Helplessly struggling against Jefferson's iron hold.

Fuck. Hamilton tried to moan, but it didn't make a sound.

No matter how much he struggled, he was trapped here, between Jefferson's thighs, nose pressed against his belly. Above him, Jefferson was gasping and moaning, and jerking his hips, which made Hamilton gag. His lungs were starting to burn with need for air, when Jefferson's grip in his hair tightened and he finally spilled down Hamilton's throat.

Jefferson's softening cock still in his mouth, Hamilton sucked in air.

His nose was buried deep in Jefferson's curls, so every ragged breath smelled like sweat and sex, and overwhelmingly like Jefferson. Hamilton felt dizzy, and clung to Jefferson's legs for balance.

Slowly, he managed to catch his breath and calm down again.

He heard Jefferson talk to his servants, his voice already back to the smooth drawl he usually spoke in.

There was something strange about it, being under the table, down on his knees, the heavy weight of Jefferson's cock on his tongue, while overhearing such a normal conversation. Like he wasn't even there.

Like he was just a thing that Jefferson liked to keep around in case he needed it.

Hamilton was already starting to grow hard again. He had to resist the urge to play with and suck on the cock in his mouth. If Jefferson got too hard before he finished eating, Hamilton wouldn't be able to breathe.

Of course, Jefferson would pull out before Hamilton suffocated, but he would be angry.

Even angrier than he already was.

So, there was nothing he could do other than breathe in Jefferson's scent and stay still until his knees were sore and his jaw ached. Jefferson eventually loosened his grip and started absentmindedly stroking his hair, almost like praise. Hamilton knew that that was not a permission to move, and so he forced himself to stay in that same straining position, and keep his lips stretched tightly around the base of the slowly hardening cock in his mouth.

Hamilton almost fell over when Jefferson suddenly pulled him off and pushed his chair back.

"Come here pet, I'm not done with you." He let his legs fall open, creating a space for Hamilton to kneel between them.

No longer hidden away under the table, but on perfect display for everyone to see.

Hamilton blushed, and his cock twitched.

Jefferson slid the hand back into his hair, and forced him to look up into his eyes. "You seemed like you were enjoying yourself down there, and I'm feeling generous. If you ask nicely, I'll let you choke on my cock again."

Hamilton's breath hitched. Jefferson knew he loved it, to be unable to make a sound other than the wet gurgling of his throat struggling to open around Jefferson's cock, completely trapped and powerless, while Jefferson used him. But to get that, he would have to admit he loved it, in front of the servants who were all staring at him.

Wondering if it could be, if Alexander Hamilton was truly such a depraved whore.

"Please.", he whispered.

"Sorry, did you say something, darlin'? I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

Hamilton swallowed. "Please, Sir." He repeated, louder, "Please fuck my mouth until I choke."

Jefferson smiled. "That's a good boy."

He grabbed Hamilton by the hair and shoved him down onto his cock, hard and fast, giving him barely enough time to relax his throat around the sudden intrusion. Jefferson was bucking his hips and dragging Hamilton up and down in a brutal pace. Hamilton gasped for air whenever he could, coughing and gagging every time Jefferson pushed him back down too soon.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew people were watching. That other people saw him so completely powerless, saw how his cock dripped with precum for every thrust that cut off his air and left him feeling lightheaded. The hot shame, mixed in with all the other constant reminders that Jefferson could do whatever he wanted to Hamilton, was burning through his body like a wildfire.

Hamilton was fighting, helplessly pushing against strong thighs and delighting in just how easily Jefferson could force his cock down Hamilton's throat. Jefferson's movements grew more erratic now, unable to keep up the charade of carelessness.

Hamilton loved those little moments when it was obvious that Jefferson was just as desperate for him as he was for Jefferson.

He also loved the unpredictable rhythm, how every thrust caught him off guard, made him choke and gag and struggle violently under the impossibly strong hold.

Or maybe Hamilton was just too weak from exhaustion and lack of air.

Jefferson dragged him off, and Hamilton managed to close his eyes just in time as thick spurts of cum landed on his face and in his open mouth.

Hamilton sat on the floor, eyes closed, and panting, Jefferson's taste still on his tongue.

"Thank you, Sir." God, his voice sounded rough, it was barely more than a whisper.

He opened his eyes and saw Jefferson smile down at him.

"Oh, now you're thanking me, pet? When just this morning you were too embarrassed to keep my seed on your face? Maybe it's because you're scared of your punishment?" His voice was cold and smooth as metal, like a blade held to his throat.

So Jefferson wanted him scared.

" _Please, Sir,_ _I'm sorry!_ ", he begged with a raspy voice: " _It won't happen again,_ _I'll do anything, I swear._ "

Jefferson's twisted grin carried the promise that he wouldn't just beat him, that this punishment would be something more entertaining to watch, something more cruel.

Genuine fear crept into Hamilton's voice as he whispered: " _Please don't hurt me_ "

"Get up, darlin'."

Hamilton pushed himself up onto his shaky legs, and made a single torturous step towards the door.

Then another.

And another.

Until he felt something wet under his bare foot. He slipped on the puddle of his own cum from earlier this morning, which no one had wiped away yet, and landed on all fours.

He heard some of the servants laugh. Fuck, he had almost forgotten they were there, hearing him beg and watching him struggle.

Hamilton was about to stand back up, when he felt Jefferson's shoe between his shoulders, pushing him down until he laid flat on the ground. He turned his head as far as he could, saw the other shiny black leather shoe in front of his face, and in the corner of his eyes Jefferson standing over him.

"Tsk tsk tsk. You're supposed to be my sweet little whore, being good and looking pretty for me. And I don't think that falling on your face 'cause you can't watch where you're stepping is good or pretty, now is it?"

Hamilton swallowed. "No, Sir, it's not.", he admitted, and blinked away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Another disappointment.

For a moment, Jefferson's foot pressed him down against the parquet floor, knocking the air out of him, before the weight lifted. "Well if you can't walk, you're allowed to crawl."

Hamilton got onto his hands and knees, and his face was hot with shame.

Sure, the servants had seen worse, Jefferson had absolutely seen worse, but this was different. Those other things had been things Jefferson had done to him, and yes, he had loved them, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that he loved them. This was the consequence of his own failure.

He kept his eyes on the ground, couldn't look Jefferson in the eyes when he said: "I'm sorry, Sir."

Jefferson crouched down next to him, caressed his ass and thighs, took his time pressing on the bruises with his thumb and teasing his rim, stretched around the plug. Hamilton leaned into his touch, and moaned.

When Jefferson let go of him, he whimpered at the loss.

"Now get going sweetheart, I can't wait 'til we're in your room." Jefferson licked his lips. "Can't wait to make you scream and beg for mercy."

The hunger in his voice sent shivers down Hamilton's spine, and he crawled over the hard floor as fast as he could bear it. Still, every now and then Jefferson nudged him with his foot, to make him hurry or maybe just because he enjoyed how it made Hamilton stumble.

Finally in his room, Hamilton waited next to the door on his knees, while Jefferson got the things he needed for whatever it was he had planned out of the wardrobe.

Hamilton's heart was beating fast, and his cock aching with anticipation. "What are you gonna do to me, Sir?"

Jefferson turned around with the thick rope in his hands and an evil grin on his face. "Get up and against the wall, darlin', with your face to me."

Hamilton did as he was told, and Jefferson laid a length of rope behind his neck, over his shoulders and crossed it behind his back, before tying it to two of the rings in the wall. Hamilton hissed in pain, as the rope pressed down on the bandages over his branding.

"That's just so you don't fall over." Jefferson leaned in, and Hamilton felt his hot breath on his cheek. "I don't wanna risk breaking my beautiful little toy."

Jefferson grabbed thinner rope, the kind that would almost cut into Hamilton's flesh when he pulled on it too strongly, and tied Hamilton's hands together. Jefferson was several inches taller than Hamilton, so he threaded the rope through a ring just out of Hamilton's reach with ease, and pulled his hands over his head.

But instead of making a knot, he brought the rope back over his chest, and crouched down to tie the end securely around Hamilton's balls.

So this was Jefferson's plan.

Hamilton would have to stand here, probably for hours, while his muscles grew tired. Fighting to hold his burning arms up, but eventually failing and then having to endure the pain of their heavy weight tearing at his balls. Inconvenience, slowly turning into delicious torture.

But instead of leaving the room and going about his day until Hamilton started to struggle, Jefferson opened the wardrobe again, and returned with an hourglass and a cat o' nine tails.

He turned the glass, and set it on the table where Hamilton could see it. The shiny black whip looked deceivingly soft, as Jefferson let it run through his fingers. "You will thank me for each lash. You can ask me to stop at any time, and I will. But if you do that before the time is over, I will take that plug out of your sweet little ass, and tomorrow morning I'll fuck you without preparation." Jefferson smiled. "How does that sound?"

Hamilton's eyes widened. "So-...sounds fair, Sir."

"Now that's a good slut."

The first lash landed on Hamilton's thighs, quicker than he had expected. He jerked, more from surprise than the impact itself, but it yanked on his balls with brutal force, and he cried out in pain.

"Thank you, Sir.", he whimpered.

"See? It's not that difficult. If only you'd been a good, obedient slave like that this morning, then I wouldn't have to do this now."

The second strike was harder, painted red stripes across his chest. It was a cold, sharp pain, like claws digging into his skin. Perhaps that was the reason they called it a cat.

Hamilton groaned, but somehow managed to stay still.

"Thank you, Sir."

And he meant it. The pain banished all other thoughts from his mind, allowed him to relax and get lost in the sensations. And Jefferson was the only one who'd ever been willing to give this to him.

Another lash, lower now, on his stomach. The whip grazed his cock, a delicious promise of more.

"Thank you, Sir."

Jefferson took a second to admire his work, traced the red streaks with the handle of the whip. "You're so very disciplined all of a sudden, darlin'. Didn't even flinch."

He let the whip trail down that thin line of hair towards Hamilton's cock. "Let's see if we can change that, shall we?"

" _Fuck._ ", Hamilton gasped: "Please, No. Sir, _please_ , don't..."

"Are you asking me to stop?" Jefferson let the tails glide over Hamilton's leaking cock.

Hamilton looked over at the hourglass, to see that a thin layer of sand was already covering the bottom of it.

He swallowed. "No, Sir, I'm not."

Jefferson grinned, and raised the whip for another lash.

Bright, blinding pain, laced with mindblowing pleasure, shot through Hamilton's body. He heard a piercing scream, then realized it had to be his own. He was writhing, trying to shield his body from the attack, but all that did was send wave after wave of new torment through his burning nerves. He didn't know when he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them, panting, he saw that his cum had landed on Jefferson's perfect silken breeches.

"Thank...thank you, Sir, and...I-...I'm sorry."

Jefferson laid a hand on his face, and gently stroked his cheek. "Oh, sweetheart, you're gonna be."

His cruel smile made Hamilton's heart skip a beat. "Yes, Master."

" _Fuck._ ", Jefferson gasped. He slid his hand into Hamilton's hair and gripped it tight. "Call me that again."

" _Please hurt me, Master, I'm yours._ "

Jefferson stepped back, raised his hand, and brought the whip down on Hamilton's chest with brutal strength. The pain was enough to make him wince, to tug on his over sensitive balls, and Hamilton moaned.

"Thank you, Sir."

He had seen what the word 'master' did to Jefferson, and he didn't want it to lose its power through overuse.

Another vicious strike, and Hamilton felt drops of warm blood running down his stomach, where the whip had split his skin.

"Thank you, Sir."

Countless more lashes followed, which had Hamilton gasping and moaning, and sometimes screaming. His mumbled "Yes"s, "Please"s, and "Thank you, Sir"s turned more and more incoherent.

Every now and again, Hamilton looked over at the hourglass, unsure if he wanted it to freeze entirely, or be through already.

He _could_ always ask Jefferson to stop.

And tomorrow, Jefferson would fuck him, unstretched and dry. In all the times men had fucked him, always with much too little preparation, it had never quite been enough. Maybe he could endure it.

Maybe he could enjoy it.

When there was only a sliver of sand left, Hamilton made his decision.

"Stop."

"What?"

"Stop, Sir."

Jefferson raised his eyebrows. "The time is almost up."

Hamilton grinned wickedly. "I know, Sir, and I'm asking you to please stop and instead take the plug out and fuck me tomorrow. Please, I want to wake up stretched around your cock, I want you splitting me open, tearing me apart"

Jefferson started untying him, first the rope around his balls and hands, then the thicker one around his shoulders. "You are truly an insatiable little slut, aren't you? So greedy for my cock."

Hamilton nodded.

Jefferson put the rope, the hourglass and the whip back into the wardrobe, and took out a rag and alcohol.

"I bet you'd love it if I just jerked off over you and came all over your hair and face, wouldn't you, darlin'?"

"Yes, Sir, please." Hamilton's own cock was long since hard again, and leaking precum.

Jefferson wiped over his wounds with alcohol, then pushed him down on his knees and started stroking himself.

The noises Jefferson made, the deep moans, the little gasps sprinkled in between them, his panting breath, all that went straight to Hamilton's cock, kept him right on the edge. It didn't take long for Jefferson to cum, painting another layer of thick white on his face.

Hamilton opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, hoping to catch some of it, to get to taste Jefferson again.

"Stand up and turn around for me, would you?"

Hamilton stood up and braced himself against the wall, his cock aching with the need to orgasm.

Jefferson let his hands trail over Hamilton's back and his bruised asscheeks, and a needy whimper escaped Hamilton.

Jefferson chuckled. "You're such a depraved whore, so needy for my voice and my touch, that you moan and beg me for more even when I mock you. Even when I hurt you."

" _Yes, Sir,_ _hurt me!_ "

He pulled the plug out of Hamilton's hole, left him feeling empty. "Perhaps then, the only real punishment is to leave you alone."

He stopped touching Hamilton, and turned to the door.

" _No, Sir, please!_ " Hamilton dropped to his knees. " _Master, please, break me. I'll scream and cry for you, I'll be good, I'll do anything. I need you._ "

Jefferson looked back over his shoulder. "Look on the bright side, darlin'. You're allowed to wipe your face."

" _Please, Master, I'm sorry, I'll do better, I swear, please!_ "

The door fell shut behind Jefferson.


End file.
